First line of the last story completed:

Jord stood at the gates of Odin’s hall, and rapped the knuckles of her
callused hands against the ancient black-oak door. — Thorsday Teatime

First line of the story you’re supposed to be working on right now:

“Oh fortune, who hath served me wine like the rust of empires and the ichor of angels, who hath fed me ash and bone and the flesh of lions, rejoice!” — Modus Operandi

First line of the last story you sold:

Six months ago, it was all sugar and no shit. — No Tomorrows

First line[s] of the last story published:

If there’s one thing they really drum into you at medical school, it’s this: if you’re having a seizure, don’t stick an eight-inch lumbar-puncture syringe in your own eyeball. — Brainfish.

Five first lines of unfinished stories without titles:

“With tuthkth like thethe, you think it’th eathy to dithpenth advithe?”

“I didn’t so much lose my faith,” said Danny, “as much as, well, choose another provider. Like mobile phones. I got a contract with another company.”

Farisa emptied the backpack onto the restaurant kitchen’s central table. “Not a good haul tonight, Nat. Just what I could get from that last condo up on Seventh and Temple.”

I think I became aware of what I could do when I was about three years old.

Albert Von Hagen was the first passenger to arrive on the Titanic, a full forty hours before it sailed.